


He Was Fine

by KeganGrimme



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cyberverse
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25323376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeganGrimme/pseuds/KeganGrimme
Summary: Bumblebee's okay, nobody has to worry about him.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	He Was Fine

**Author's Note:**

> If there's a tag I need to add, please let me know. I want to make sure everybody is as comfortable as possible.

Bumblebee had been approached countless times by other bots, some he knew, and some he didn’t. Despite their familiarity, they all would speak the same words, as an absentminded thought, or as a sudden realization:

“I can’t believe after all you’ve been through, you’re still smiling.”

There was never a proper response for that, and Bumblebee always answered the same way he always did: by smiling.

It would be the fakest smile anybody would ever see, but he was so good at giving them that they became mixed with his genuine smiles.

Despite what others would believe however, those fake smiles were formed a lot more than real ones.

Why should he bother anybody else with his thoughts? There were more important things going on for them to worry about. Not even his sire needed to hear what he desperately wanted to scream to the world.

He wouldn’t be able to scream though. Whenever he tried to, his voice box felt nothing but pain, the large scar stretching across his neck cables serving as a reminder of the last time he screamed. His voice had been fully repaired, but nothing could fix the constant memories flooding his mind of the moment where he was forced to the ground, large claws digging into his neck and-

Sometimes he would get loud out of genuine excitement, but his servos would instinctively fly to grasp around his throat, squeezing slightly to remind himself to calm down and stop. Windblade and Hot Rod frequently noticed this happening and would grow concerned, but Bumblebee would always laugh softly and tell them the words that had been engraved permanently into his vocabulary.

He was fine.

\--

Bumblebee was a very friendly mech, always open to spend time with any of his comrades who wanted company. Now that the war was over, other bots were opening up as well, letting their guards down and accepting when others would come and request to sit with them. Bumblebee found himself in the presence of former decepticons more than his friends sometimes, and assumed it was because of his gentle demeaner. He was easily approachable, a good target for decepticons who weren’t sure how to connect with the other autobots yet.

He didn’t mind this. In fact, Bumblebee was proud that he was seen as that. Hot Rod often teased that if he and Soundwave hadn’t convinced the two factions to work together, Bumblebee could have probably stopped the war all by himself by becoming the decepticon therapist. It was a funny joke, and Bumblebee could honestly believe it himself.

…if it wasn’t for the decepticon leader himself.

Because Bumblebee was raised by Optimus from an early age, he found himself in the presence of Megatron more often than Megatron ever spent time with his decepticon warriors. As a result, Megatron became trusted by Bumblebee and Optimus alike. He was like another parental figure.

But all that admiration and care was torn away in an instant when Megatron took his words from him.

Bumblebee wanted to care for Megatron as he once had. He would watch Optimus spend time with him, the two mechs loving each others’ company. Bumblebee’s spark ached for the affection he used to have from both of them.

He _could_ have it though, which is what hurt even more.

Megatron liked to place his servo on the shoulders of smaller bots he talked to, as an affectionate gesture. While it appeared harmless and gentle to anyone else, Bumblebee only felt the pain of his throat being torn out, the echo of Megatron’s laughter ringing in his audials.

Whenever that servo was placed on him, Bumblebee had to summon all his self-control to keep from crying, to keep from running away. He had chosen to forgive Megatron a long time ago, but his memories and scars refused to allow Bumblebee to make peace with his choice.

Instead, he would tense his body, nodding and giving signs of listening, when all he really wanted was to leave immediately. Sometimes Megatron noticed when Bumblebee was acting “off”, always asking if he needed anything. Not wanting to bring up something that would ruin the mood, Bumblebee would shrug (hoping to dislodge the servo from his shoulder) and give a short laugh.

He was fine.

\--

The night had been going well, most of his friends and family gathering at Maccadam’s to celebrate the anniversary of Ratchet getting his medical degree. Normally something like this wouldn’t be celebrated, but with all the rumors going around that Ratchet had never gotten it, he insisted having parties to appreciate it, so everybody would know how difficult it was to get. There still was the chance that it might have been illegally acquired, but you’d have to answer to a pissed-off doctor if you questioned it.

Bumblebee was dancing with Windblade when it happened this time, the two bots enjoying the rhythm of the music and the sound of their comrades laughing. All of a sudden, as if a switch was flicked, the mech didn’t know where he was.

There were so many bots around, all different shapes and colors. They were mingling and smiling at one another, giving the yellow bot a happy fluttering feeling. Suddenly, somebody gripped his servo, causing him to jump in surprise. In front of him was a red and black bot, large wings folded out of her back. Still trying to process what he was seeing, the mech gave a little wave and uttered a small greeting.

She only chuckled, causing him confusion. The way she acted felt familiar, but he couldn’t work out who she was. He didn’t know anybody here, and it caused a bit of anxiety. Deciding to find out where he was, the mech asked the bot in front of him.

And she laughed again, calling him “silly”.

This started to get him a little more frustrated, and he asked once more. Letting some of his anger slip.

The expression that spread across her face conveyed only one feeling: fear.

Before he knew it, Windblade was calling for somebody named “Ratchet”. Wait, Windblade? Yeah, that was her name. But then who was the red mech standing next to her, also looking worried?

Oh Primus. The yellow mech gripped his helm, shutting his optics as his head pounded. There were so many voices, so many bots. He could name them, right? Wheeljack, Thunderhowl, Slipstream- No, Slipstream was a decepticon, right? She was, but she was also deactivated. But if she was gone, then who was the femme next to the dinobot mech? She was Shadow… lock? Was that her name? But then who-

A servo gently touched his shoulder, causing Bumble to turn and face the owner immediately. There he was, the mech who caused his throat to ache. That kept him from speaking. Bumblebee tried to turn on his radios to communicate exactly how he felt, but found an angry noise escaping from his voicebox. What the-!? He couldn’t speak! He could though! It was fixed- but it was torn- BUT-!

Before any other thoughts could overtake his processor, the mech acted on instinct, lashing out and scratching the large gray bot across the optics. He screeched, releasing his grip on Bumblebee in order to try and keep energon from leaking out of his faceplates. Now that there was a distraction, Bumblebee ran out as fast as he could.

His thoughts began returning, sharing with him everything that had happened over the course of millions of years. Windblade, decepticons, Blurr, his family, Cheetor, death, hurt, so much hurt. The memories rattled around, filling his mind with so much strain. It hurt so much, why wouldn’t it stop? Everything was back where it should be. But the- Oh Primus. He hurt Megatron. He _attacked_ Megatron. Why did he do that?

His pedes feeling heavy, Bumblebee slumped against the nearest wall he could find, letting out soft cries of confusion. His mind hurt. Everything hurt. But that didn’t matter. It always hurt when Bumblebee forgot about his past, his present, his friends.

Words echoed in his mind, particular ones he was always called when bullied. Words that meant horrible things. Optimus had assured him that they didn’t apply to him whatsoever, but for once in his life, the great Optimus Prime was wrong. Bumblebee was those things. He was every single one of those, and he could never forget them.

When Bumblebee was found, energon leaked from the words he had etched into his arms as he struggled to stop his tears. But with multiple sets of optics on him, Bumblebee let them flow as he opened his mouth, screeching as loud as he could, ignoring his voice box’s painful begging for him to stop.

“I’m fucking _fine!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the start to this sitting in my drafts for a long time, and tonight has been horrible. It's so hard to find people to talk to because I don't want to bother them with my problems, but without talking to somebody, they've been getting so much worse. It's a feeling I tried to reflect in this, and I know how much it can hurt for other people too.  
> This is the first one I've wrote without any comfort in it, because sometimes this is the unfortunate reality sometimes. Sometimes nobody's there to help you when you need them.  
> For a little more context for the fic itself, I believe Bumblebee has occasional memory loss, and sometimes his voice freezes up. Harm like that doesn't go away as easily as it might seem, and can hurt more than anything when you have to relive it.
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely night, make sure you get lots of rest and take care of yourself. <3


End file.
